


Lighthouse

by Candyfloss_And_Fairymoss



Category: Cuphead (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, M/M, can you hear that? its the sound of a porcelain heart shattering, cuphead is 21+ in all my writings, not so one sided love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 13:47:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13009128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candyfloss_And_Fairymoss/pseuds/Candyfloss_And_Fairymoss
Summary: The Lighthouse of Inkwell has been known by many as a place of safety and solace. For one it provides refuge in a time of uncertainty, and for the other, a place of longing.





	1. Chapter 1

He doesn't know what to do, besides get out.

After their defeat, The Devil seemed alright, maybe a little beat up and angry, but that was only the beginning. Eventually, debtors that hadn't been on the list of overdues were piling in at the door and frothing at the mouth. If Cuphead and Mugman could do them in, then increased numbers could as well.

The Devil warns them not to be so cheeky, and then laughs as the Casino crumbles around them. His design, his will.

Dice is hurt to see it go. It was his home, his baby. He knows he has to get over it, has to overcome it.

Especially as it rains down around his pips as he grabs an emergency bag he keeps in his office for something like this. 

He runs till he can't anymore and looks back towards the mountain, takes in the smoke and the sounds of people yelling and talking and running. He doesn't want to be caught alone in the forest by an angry mob of people who think he's as charming as a hagfish thats just sneezed. 

And thats how he finds the lighthouse.

Its old, the door has been boarded up, but he tears the planks away and busts his way inside. Dust that hasn't been bothered in centuries clouds around him and sends him into a coughing fit that makes him almost dry heave, and then he steps inside.

Crates, nets, boxes, all the usual clutter. Theres a cot in the corner, and he decides that this will have to do. Its hard work to haul the mattress outside and look it over, to dust and sweep with pine branches until the place is somewhat livable. He sits inside as it gets dark, lighting an old lantern that only casts shadows up the walls and makes him anxious. He bandages the odd wound from running through the brush and escaping the wreckage. He wonders what became of his boss, and then decides that as long as he is free, he needn't worry. He would turn up.

The sun goes down, the stars come out, and he drifts into slumber.

.............................................................................................................................................................................

Cuphead and Mugman are informed of the Casinos demise. 

They don't believe it, and head to the mountain to see for themselves.

Rubble, chaos. The marble that was once so tall and magnificent and mesmerizing lays in shambles. The crushed velvet now is ash, and they cant feel the unmistakable heat that follows the Devil everywhere he goes.

"Do you really think he's gone."

"Mugs, who on earth would live in that pile 'o junk?"

They poke around, look for survivors, and find nothing. Not even bodies, thank the heavens, they think.

They head back down the mountain, and stop.

Footprints. They look odd, the left is heavier than the right, and they stutter in their pattern. Someone is hurt or tired. They follow the trail down through a path so littered with thorns that their legs weep blood and then they come to a lighthouse. Old and rickety, Mugs remarks that the place looks like tetanus. 

And then they notice the light inside. Faint, but there.

"We gotta help them."

"What if its just some poor sap that just lives here?"

"In this rickety pile of sh-"

"Hi de ho, Cups."

They practically jump outta their shorts, and Dice grins around a cigarette, "Come to visit little old me? How nice."

They gawk at him, at his disheveled suit and his new digs.

"You look like hell, Dice."

"Thanks, just got back."

They ask him questions that he thinks would be obvious at this point, and slowly make their way to him. At some point the interrogation becomes a conversation, and he doesn't realize how badly he wants someone to talk to until they're all leaning on the lighthouse and shooting the breeze. Maybe not like old friends, but like some kind of normalcy that he doesn't get.

He likes it.

They notice.

.............................................................................................................................................................................

It becomes routine for Cup to show up at least 3 nights out of the week. Just to visit or to check on him, either one works fine with him. 

Even Mugman makes an appearance or two, coming to see if Dice is treating his brother alright, and once to berate him after finding out he wasn't getting outside enough.

So, with some arguing on his part, and some coaxing and whining and downright yelling on theirs, the Cup brothers lead him outside and into town to buy some essentials. 

He quickly remembers why he didn't want to go, however. The townspeople eye him with mistrust, until they see the brothers with him. The mistrust is still there, but there is something else, too. Curiosity, suspicion, and for some, irony. He isn't a big bad man with a demon behind him anymore, he is a man with no suit jacket and a face that is relatively pleasant to look at. They wave to the brothers and some nod to him, and eventually as they move from shop to shop, they begin to slightly ignore him. 

Out of spite or out of genuine disinterest, he isn't sure. He doesn't care.

He does care about how Cup is holding his hand, his small fingers only leaving his when he goes to pick something up. He likes it. He also wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

They return to the lighthouse with bags of non-perishables and some first aid and toiletries. Dice is grateful for them, and Mug is on his case about needing things and opening his mouth when he needs help. 

He promises to say something next time, they all quiet down, and he has the best meal since the Casino burned.

Perhaps the fact that its more than apples from a stunted tree with whatever else he can get is what makes it good, and perhaps its the company he shares it with.

.............................................................................................................................................................................

He stays in the lighthouse for a few more months. He knows eventually his emergency money will run out, and then he will have to find something to do.

For all the newfound trust from the townsfolk and previous debtors- it was very little and very fragile, but there all the same- they don't trust him enough yet to let him deal with their money. 

He understands that. 

"You could work for Elder Kettle."

"Doesn't he hate my guts, Cuphead?"

"He doesn't hate you. Dislikes you a little, but not hate."

"Perfect. What would I even do?"

"Housework. Cleaning gutters and mowing lawns. Me and Mugs usually do it, but there's more work everyday with the neighbors. Its good, honest money."

He says he'll consider it. He knows he won't, because he's running through his backup plans, and none of them include staying here, not a one.

"I might go to the mainland. Get a job there."

"Oh."

Thats all he says.

"Well, at least try here first."

He sounds... downhearted. Dice eyes him, but drops it.

.............................................................................................................................................................................

He doesn't know what to do.

Cuphead is sprawled out in a box with a blanket, and his entire deck of marked aces draped over him, snoring away. The cards flutter every now and again, or shift for a better position. The hearts in particular rest by his face so peacefully that he feels his heart soften just the tiniest bit. Even the clubs, some of the more grouchy cards he has, snuggle into him and sleep. 

He lays down on the cot and watches them until he drifts asleep.

He doesn't like the feeling in his chest, the sudden desire he feels to pick Cup up and put him in the cot beside him. 

He should hate him, hate him for spiraling his life out of control from the height of the Casino life to a busted down lighthouse. 

But he can't. No matter how he glares and grits his teeth.

So he makes a decision then and there, grabbing his coat and heading down to the docks in the dead of night. 

.............................................................................................................................................................................

"I'm leaving tomorrow."

Cuphead looks up from the deck of cards currently arguing over the leftover biscuits he's brought today, "Leaving?"

Dice eyes him over his cigarette, "Yes. I can't stay here, I won't find work with everyone hating my guts, Cuphead. At best, they tolerate me, at worst they'll run me out of Inkwell eventually."

Cup looks down at his hands, and he feels his chest tighten, "I could tell them otherwise."

"You'll tarnish your good name is what you'll do."

"Maybe, but then again, maybe not. You were under just as much pressure as everyone else to do his bidding, Dice."

They're silent, Dice letting curls of smoke leave his lips and the cards quietly munching on biscuits between them. They eye each other silently.

"I have something to tell you tomorrow."

"You'd better spill it then."

"No, Dice.", he stands up, and whispers a quick apology to the ace of hearts that was clamoring up his leg as it drifts slowly to the floor, "I'll tell you tomorrow. Because you'll still be here." He eyes him sternly, "The suspense will keep you here."

"It wont though, and I think you know that, don't you?"

"Dice."

"How about I stay as late as I can, and if you aren't here by.", he eyes his watch, "10 am. I'll leave. Deal?"

"Okay."

.............................................................................................................................................................................

He wakes up. 8 am. He dresses and packs and sits around because maybe Cup knows his plan. Maybe he'll open that door right now and look at him and call him a six-sided liar and this will all be okay. 9 am. He won't risk it, he gets up.

He looks over the lighthouse and feels something akin to regret, longing, and something else.

He leaves. He just wishes he could leave what he was feeling behind.

.............................................................................................................................................................................

He can't run fast enough, he trips and stumbles and falls and he can hear Mugman behind him shouting his name. The briars along the path slash at his clothes and his legs, branches scratch at his face, and he knows that he must look a fright. He jumps over a log, and then slides a few feet down the slope just behind it. He can hear the docks from here, the sound of a boat shipping out.

_Please, please, please!_

"Cuphead, stop!"

Its like his limbs are controlled by something more powerful, despite the burning in his lungs and legs, and the tears he can feel running down his face. He wishes he were faster, that he had said something, had followed his instinct and stayed at the lighthouse.

There's a boat whistle, and his heart slams right into his ribcage with fear.

" _CUPHEAD LOOK OUT!"_

He stops suddenly, skidding, narrowly avoiding the cliff's edge right there next to the lighthouse. There is a boat, halfway out of the pier, steadily but surely leaving Inkwell behind for the Mainland and beyond. 

He's on that ship.

He's gone.

"Cup please, lets go home and talk about this!", Mug walks up behind him slowly, eyeing the cliff edge the entire time. He hopes that Cup will answer him, walk away with him, and not feel the need to get any closer to the precarious lip of rock that could send him careening into the toothy boulders below. He reaches for his hand.

"I didn't say goodbye, Mugs.", he sounds so distant, in the roar of the sea, "I told him I wouldn't say goodbye because I'd see him today."

Mug nods, and reaches for his hand, only to have it snatched out of his reach as Cup takes a step forward, "I told him I'd see him today because I HAD SOMETHING TO TELL HIM!" He turns then, and Mugman can see that he's holding back something on the brink of hysteria, "I LIKED HIM, MUG!"

He nods, and understands just whats happening, what his brother is feeling, "I'm sorry Cuppy. Maybe we can catch him, or maybe he will come back?"

"He's going to the Mainland, Mug.", he wants to scream at his brother, but its not his fault, "He's gone."

He pauses awkwardly, gasping around a sob, and Mug rushes forward and pulls him from the cliff and into one of the tightest hugs he's ever had. He squeezes like this simple act could push all those bad feelings out and place all his broken pieces together again. It only makes Cuphead wail.

Mugman looks out, over the Inky sea, over the boat, he finds himself grimacing. He wonders if he's happy, maybe he's just as sad as Cuppy, or perhaps he's indifferent. He grips Cup tighter and wonders just what will happen now.

.............................................................................................................................................................................

He looks through a window, back to the cliffs, back to the lighthouse.

He can swear he sees a red dot. A familiar red dot that makes his heart flutter in his chest.

He frowns and turns away, willing the feelings down into his gut.


	2. Chapter 2

 The mainland offers things that Inkwell cannot.

He finds a hotel -the sixth one he's gone to- and cannot thank them enough for a room being free. When he walks inside, he doesn't know why but the fact that its just... here and empty and impersonal is... painful. He is thankful he isn't met with a century of dust, and that he doesn't have to tug half the furniture outside to inspect it or clean, but something is missing.

 _I wonder just what that is_ , a venomous little voice whispers in the back of his mind.

He squashes the thought and decides that a shower is in order. The hot water washes away the sweat and grime, but not the thoughts, the want, the longing for something he knows he wants but knows he can't have. 

Dice lays down, and stares out the small window beside the bed. He can hear the sounds of the city outside, its not too much. Theres the bark of a dog, the sound of cars passing by, the occasional voice. Its honestly pretty quiet. 

And he has time to think about what has just occurred.

_You ran, like a big chicken._

He suddenly hopes something, anything, will happen and save him from this spiral of thoughts.

He hears a rustling and sits up, part of him so glad for something to take his mind off of this feeling that he isn't too worried what the noise is. As he stands and looks about, he begins to worry as the rustling proves to be louder, hinting at something big. If its a rat he can take care of it, but anything bigger and he would have to get some help, and he doubts that telling the hotel that he somehow managed to bring a possum or raccoon or heaven knows what else with him will go over well. He tracks the sound to his suitcase and after arming himself with a shoe, readies himself to strike. The lid gets flung to the side-

To reveal his deck of marked aces clamoring over each other. They stop and look up at him -with some measure of displeasure, he notes- before climbing over the side and inspecting the room. They look in every nook and cranny they can reach, and take the time to  _glare_ or whine at him as they become more and more agitated. Something is wrong.

" _What!?"_ , he hisses in frustration as the hearts form a coalition of whining at his feet and the clubs stomp around like someone has pissed in their cereal, " _What are you looking for?"_

 _Not what, who_. That bitter voice in the back of his mind pipes up. He grimaces and stands, not in the mood for this in the slightest. "Line up!"

The cards shuffle into their usual formation, lining up by type as he looks them over and counts. Four spades, four diamonds, four clubs -that give him the meanest, nastiest stink eye he's ever received- and three hearts.

Three.... hearts.

He counts again, just to be sure this isn't his tired brain.

_Three Hearts._

"Alright, where is your brother?"

They don't offer an answer, not that they can vocalize anyway, but they also look a little.... schemey? Like they know something, but aren't ready to give him any insight at all.

"This is not funny, boys, where is your brother!?"

.................................................................................................................................................................

This walk was supposed to lead him to the best apples for cider, and help him clear his thoughts, instead, he finds himself at the lighthouse. His head is telling him to run, but his heart aches with something akin to longing. He knows its a bad idea, but he sits the basket on a stump next to the once boarded up door -the same stump he perched on as Dice told them how he got here- and pushes his way inside.

He expects dust, cobwebs, something to mark the passage of time. Instead, its just the way it was the last night he was here, and he can practically hear the beat of his heart slow. The cot remains made with a blanket they chose from the market, the upturned orange crate that smells of triple sec that they used for a table, the oil lamp they shared late night talks by. Everything stays, like its waiting for something, for someone.

It looks like its waiting for him to come back, and maybe he came here because he is waiting, too.

He goes to smile, and ends up slapping a hand over his mouth to stop a sob. He's so focused on keeping himself together that he doesn't hear the rustling around him, only stopping when he feels something brush against his leg. He looks down to see, much to his surprise, an ace of hearts.

A  _marked_ ace of hearts.

The card chirps, and climbs up until he's right against his face, nuzzling right into the tears there. "Where did you come from?" He looks around like the answer -like he- will be there, hidden among the crates, "Dice went to the mainland, Heart, he's gone."

Hearts could care less, it appears, as he almost nonchalantly glides to the window and waves to get Cuphead's attention. He point to himself, then to Cup, and very pointedly to the mainland.

"We can't, he's been gone for months now, Heart."

The card repeats the motion will a roll of his eyes.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin looking for him."

Cuphead has never seen a card get exasperated before, but apparently they mime tearing themselves in half with frustration. 

"Well, Mugs did say that we could try and catch him."

.................................................................................................................................................................

"I meant the same day.", Mugman quips, peeling the apples and tossing them into a bucket of water for later. "How would we even find him now Cuphead?"

"Hearts glows the closer he is to him.", speaking of the card, Cup plucks him from the edge of the table where he threatens to go right over the side if he isn't careful, "He's like a little homing pigeon."

"Cup.", he puts the peeler down and tries to think of how to proceed, "Cup, what are you gonna do if we find him and he tells you no?"

"This isn't about me, its about getting Hearts home."

"This  _is_ about you, Cup! You're gonna have to see him, more than likely! If you fall apart again-"

"Mug, please."

He frowns, and puts off the discussion while he finishes peeling and chopping apples. Cup helps, quietly, and they have little to say to one another even in close range. Mug ponders the situation, just what good will this do? What could they possibly hope to find. Hearts seems happy to be here with Cuphead, and makes no movements towards distress at the mention of not seeing Dice again, but does seem to get agitated at the notion that Dice would not see  _Cuphead_ again.

Later he notices that the card stays on Cup's shoulder, pressing into him when he notices Cup getting weepy. He knows its his job to look out for his brother, to protect him, and now it seems this little card is trying to shoulder some of that weight, soaking up tears and chirping encouragingly.

Dammit

_Damn damn damn_

.................................................................................................................................................................

In the time he's been here, he has made something for himself. 

A local club has opened up just before his arrival, in sore need of a bartender that could make more than an Arnold Palmer and long islands. He gives it a try, using his signature sleight of hand and mixology skills. His coworkers respect him, the customers enjoy watching and talking with him before disappearing into the mob of dancers. Tonight proves to be a tough night, not because of a shortage of drink orders or tips, but because of the atmosphere. Couples night. People swing by in pairs, telling him their stories and asking for his. He grins through it all, and tries to ignore the jabbing little voice in the back of his mind as he works.

_You could be like them, you know, that is, if you hadn't run_

_You could go back and start a bar, live in the lighthouse, and have him._

_You could have tried._

Closing time can't come soon enough. He grabs his coat after cleaning up, and heads home. 

_That apartment isn't home, though, is it?_

He growls, he's fortunate to find a place so close to his work. Its a small apartment, but it is nice and eventually it'll feel like home. The lobby is quiet as he passes through, nodding to the doorman and heading to the elevator, he just wants to get to his room and go to sleep, for this feeling to stop. He thinks that a nip of bourbon before bed should chase these thoughts away and put him out for the night. 

At least he does before the elevator doors open to reveal a little pink and white card standing halfway down the hall. He pauses, squinting until he is sure that what he's seeing is a card. "Hearts?"

The card chirps, scrambling towards him and up his suit until he reaches his shoulder, nuzzling there and purring so loud its almost deafening.

"What? I-  _where_ have you been!?"

Before he can get a straight answer, Hearts glides from his shoulder to the floor, flitting down the hall and around the corner. Dice is sick of this supposed game of hide and seek, but still, finds himself speed walking behind the card. He turns the corner just in time to watch him clamor up the legs and onto the shoulder of-

"Hiya, Dice."

He  _really_ wants that bourbon now.

.................................................................................................................................................................

"You ran from me."

Cuphead says it so quietly he almost misses it, but he does hear him and leans back in his chair, "It was for the best, Cup."

"How!?", Mugman barks, before shrinking like a violet at the exasperated look Cup gives him, "Sorry."

They all go silent, and Dice finds he doesn't have an answer, at least, not one he can say aloud.

_I ran because I was afraid, I ran because this was too much, I ran because I wasn't ready for this_

_I ran because I love you_

He looks down to see Hearts watching him,  _glaring_ at him. He's starting to get sick of this.

"I left because there are too many bad memories in Inkwell."

"So you couldn't even stay long enough for me to tell you what I had to say, they were that bad?"

"What did you have to tell me?"

Mug coughs, and considers changing the subject, not wanting this already tense situation to turn into one of tears. Hearts seems excited, and tracks them like a spectator at a tennis match, waiting for something to happen. Cup looks slightly wounded, "Maybe I don't wanna tell you now, because it obviously didn't matter then."

"Maybe you're just as chicken as me."

"I came all the way out here to see you, to return your card, and you call  _me_ chicken?", Cup stands from the table and points at him, " You  _ran_ from me, Dice! And lied!" He sits slowly, "I was gonna tell you I liked you! And that I wanted you to stay!"

The room is quiet, all except for the sound of his cards shrilly chirping their approval at the admission, Dice can barely get them to stop, but they quiet eventually, just as Cup goes to speak, "I've been honest, now why did you run?"

_He liked you, Dice, past tense, don't be a damn fool, don't say anything._

"Because.... I.", He's very aware of the glares he's getting from his deck as they watch him try and come up with something to say, and he thinks that perhaps just this once he'd better spill the beans, "Because I had feelings for you."

"Had?", Mug pipes up, before shrinking back in his chair once again, "Sorry!"

"I was trying to get rid of them. I shouldn't have them."

He isn't sure when Cup stood up and walked over to him, or when he started crying, but Cup is there and he looks like hes going to sob any moment now, "You  _shouldn't_ have them!?"

"Cup we were  _enemies_!"

"Are we still!? Do you still feel that way!?"

And then he's out of his chair, Cup's face in his hands as he catches him in a kiss. Its sudden and dumb and he knows he ought to catch a slap for it, but if he's being honest he could care less. Cup's hands, which were fists when he grabbed him, have weakly gripped his vest as he leans into the kiss, tears wetting his cheeks. When he pulls away he is aware only of Cup at first, of how flushed and wet his face is, of how his lips tremble around sobs and the heat of the kiss, how he eyes him with a mix of yearning and confusion.

"Whoo, okay, glad we had this talk.", Mug pipes up, and Dice slowly lets Cup down, not even realizing he's lifted Cup from the ground slightly. 

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize for that."

"I'm apologizing for running, Cuphead."

"Oh, yeah, well, a few hundred more of those and maybe I'll forgive you.", Cup wipes his face, "Holy hell, Dice."

"I ran because I was afraid, Cup. I know I'm a big talker but sometimes the littlest stuff will take ya down a peg."

"You are a six sided fool."

"Sure am, but if you still want me, I'll be your six sided fool."

"Cuphead if you say no, I'm going to kick your ass.", Mug pipes up, and the cards seem to be sending the same sentiment to Dice.

Cup eyes him, a small smile slipping across his face.

..............................................................................................................................................................

 The lighthouse is just as they left it. Cot, crate, lamp. 

Dice doesn't want to admit it, but he missed it. 

"We'll have to fix it up."

"Yup, but thats something we can do together."

He grins when he feels him gently squeeze his hand, "Wouldn't have it any other way."


End file.
